


Perfumed Future

by microwaveslayer



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Also Nina's really gay, Canon Trans Character, Designer!Nina, F/F, Mentions of Sex, Model!Grelle, Nina Hopkins is smooth as hell, William T. Spears is not her husband, mentions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 08:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5998858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/microwaveslayer/pseuds/microwaveslayer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nina Hopkins designs clothes. Grelle Sutcliff models clothes. This means Nina spends a lot of time staring at Grelle almost nude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfumed Future

Nina Hopkins was not one to gossip. The three girls who worked under her, however, could drive a woman mad with the way they prattled on. So, she began wearing earbuds while sketching, blissfully ignoring the girls around her and following her instructions.  
No matter how annoying their chatter was, Nina couldn’t bring herself to fire any of them. First and foremost, they were excellent workers. Second, they weren’t that bad-looking. And, of course, they were all differently shaped, so Nina could simply look over if she had an idea but needed a body shape to match it to.  
Her personal favourite had been the larger girl with the pear shape, Alice or Allison. Nina wasn’t quite sure but Ali seemed to work and the girl had been the inspiration behind a lot of Nina’s recent designs.  
And work went on in blissful chatter with Nina content to ignore them. She only pulled out her earbuds to give the girls some instruction. She often gave them her patterns or any cheap muslin she’d cut out in her overtime and they got right to work, arranging pieces into garments. They respected her need for personal silence.  
And then the call came in.  
The taller, thin girl who could’ve been a model was always the one to answer. She would cover the phone with her hand and pass the message along. Usually the larger of the three would be the one to rouse Nina.  
The girl gently touched Nina’s shoulder. With a loud and overly dramatic sigh, Nina pulled her earbuds out and asked, “What is it?”  
“A call, Miss.”  
Poor girl looked like she was going to cry. Nina asked, “Can’t they survive without me?”  
“Afraid not, Miss,” the tall girl said, fixing her bright blue eyes on Nina. “It’s urgent. They wouldn’t waste your time if it wasn’t.”  
Nina had to smile. Karina never smiled, but she had a sense of wit. Slowly setting her sketchbook aside, she stood up, stretching. Already, her mind was working on the next line. Crop tops might be a nice spring look.  
She took the phone, trying to only sigh internally. Yes, she could design a line. Yes, she could fit a model. No, she didn’t have any problems coming in this week.   
She hung up and pulled off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was bound to go horribly. All Nina’s experiences with models did.  
“Karina, will you be alright here with Cloe?” Nina asked, getting her bag ready. She’d need the tape measure for sure.  
Karina nodded. “I can manage.”  
Nina chuckled. She’d need another sketchbook, a fresh one. Pulling it off the shelf, it went into her bag.  
“Ali, I’m going to need you,” she said.  
“Yes, Miss.”  
Nina offered her arm to Ali or Alice or Allison. Turning a bit pink, the girl linked arms with her. Together, they went out, Nina trying her best to get a cab.

Nina Hopkins feared no one, not even the most pampered model. The model before her, however, made Nina lower her head just a bit.  
The woman was tall, for one. Stilettos had her towering over Nina. And, instead of the usual bottle-blonde, Grelle’s hair was bright red. Her green eyes focused on Nina and she turned to stare at the man in the suit standing in the room. He gave a nod and Grelle held out her hand.  
“Sutcliff,” she said in a low voice. “Grelle Sutcliff.”  
Allison (it had to be Allison) made a soft noise that she masked as a coughing fit. When Grelle turned her gaze to Allison, the girl was immediately quiet.  
That, Nina decided, would be a neat trick.  
“Nina Hopkins,” she said. Was she holding the model’s hand for too long? She probably was. She let go and turned her stare to the woman’s body.  
Allison tugged on the strap of her bag before Nina could even get started. Sighing, Nina looked over at her.  
“Miss, a quick word?”  
“Alright,” Nina said. She turned to the model and told her, “I just need one second. I’m so sorry.”  
“No, please,” Grelle said. “Take your time.”  
Allison led Nina out of earshot and squeaked, “Miss, that’s the Grelle Sutcliff!”  
“Who?” Nina asked, adjusting her glasses.  
“She was the biggest name in modeling until the scandal a few years back,” Allison said, peeking around Nina at the red-haired woman. “Rumor had it she’d quit or died or both.”  
“And this matters why?” Nina asked. “If we screamed about every model we met, we’d be out of business.”  
“Well, Miss, she's not the run-of-the-mill model.” 

Nina came back, full of apologies. The man who had been with Grelle put a hand on her shoulder, whispered something to her, and left. Now, Nina could work in peace and without a man staring her down and judging her work.  
Nina could tell that, unlike the other models she’d dealt with, Grelle’s vibrant red hair was not from a bottle. All the telltale signs of a dye job were absent. In fact, Grelle’s hair seemed to be the feature she was most proud of.  
And, as Nina fetched her tape measure, she noticed just how tall this woman was. Nina herself wasn’t short, but Grelle seemed to tower over Nina.  
Nina Hopkins also noticed that Grelle Sutcliff was completely and totally attractive. And probably straight.  
She hurried about, tape measure in hand, trying to think about fabric and styles rather than curves and a sharp smile. Reducing the curves to numbers helped, but the smile still had Nina flustered. She read the numbers off to Allison, who took notes furiously. Nina knew her bad habit of mumbling about styles was well-documented and well-appreciated.  
It was when she was measuring Grelle’s hips that she noticed. A fairly innocent brush against her hips, where Grelle’s thighs met. Nina pulled away, more for professionalism than out of disgust.  
Grelle hissed, pulling away from her. Nina looked up and saw the woman could fall off the small platform and Nina took her by her wrists.   
“Grelle, please,” Nina said softly. “You need to hold still.”  
Grelle stared at her, eyes welling up with panic and tears. Nina gently helped her back into the position she needed to continue measuring her.  
“Aren’t you disgusted?” Grelle asked in a voice so low Nina had to strain to hear it. She stared at Allison over her shoulder, Nina’s assistant giving a soft noise of fright and looking down intently at her notepad.  
Nina shrugged. “You’re a pretty nice model. I guess it explains why you’re so tall.”  
“But you don’t care?”  
“Not really. If I worried about what was up everyone’s skirt, I wouldn’t be able to focus on making new ones.”  
Grelle sighed, relaxing. Nina continued her work and stepped over to her sketchpad, making a few notes. Grelle craned her neck to look over Nina’s shoulder.  
Asymmetrical dresses might be nice, drawing attention to Grelle’s figure. Shirtwaist dresses would definitely create a nice hourglass shape for her too. She turned her head, staring at Grelle. Red. Whatever fabric she was using, it would have to be red.  
“You’re really attractive, you know,” Nina said, starting in on one of the sketches. She paused and stiffened. Had she really said that out loud?  
She turned and found Grelle sitting, legs crossed at the ankles and staring up at her. One hand cupped her chin and her bright green eyes half-lidded.  
“You really think so?” Grelle asked.  
“Um, yeah,” Nina said. “I think I should go. I have to get started on these sketches and patterns.”  
“Wait, let me give you my number,” Grelle said, digging in her purse. She pulled out a red pen and a business card, scratching her number on the back of the card. “Then you can call me without William being so bothered.”  
“Are you and William—?”  
“Fucking?” Grelle asked, looking on the verge of smiling. “No. He’s just a friend, a good one.”

Nina stood outside Grelle’s flat, clutching her trunk of half-finished designs. She’s called ahead, of course, to make sure Grelle was free today. Raising a gloved hand, Nina knocked gently.  
Grelle answered the door, looking exhausted.   
“Did you sleep well?” Nina asked.  
Grelle sighed and stared at Nina. “It’s before noon.”  
“Oh, sorry about that,” Nina said, the feeling of apprehension creeping along her spine.  
Grelle hummed and opened the door a little wider, standing aside to let Nina in. When she spotted the trunk in Nina’s hand, Grelle made a noise of resentment.  
“Let me get another cup of coffee before you do anything to me,” Grelle sighed, going to her kitchen.  
“Where should I—?”  
“The bedroom,” Grelle said, waving a hand in the direction of a half-open door.   
Nina went to the bedroom, pushing open the door. She set the trunk down, taking in the room. Grelle’s closet was open just a bit and Nina could see red and just the faintest hint of black, seemingly hung up in a hurry. Turning her head, she found a vanity table with makeup, jewelry placed here and there, with no real care or concern.  
Grelle’s bed was unmade, white sheets spilling over onto the floor. Nina smiled until she saw the bottles by the bedside table. She stepped closer, reaching out to pick one up when a soft bark came from the bed.  
Startled, Nina turned her head. A little fluffy white dog stood in the mess of sheets, wagging a tail that was more fur than anything. The dog barked again and Nina sighed, pulling off her gloves and reached out one hand.  
The dog eagerly lapped at Nina’s fingers, tag wagging more furiously. Nina scratched behind the dog’s ear, the little white creature flopping over and almost disappearing in the sheets.  
“I see you’re friendly with Macbeth.”  
Nina looked over and found Grelle in the doorway, a red mug of coffee in her hands.   
“The dog is very cute,” Nina told her.  
“I suppose so,” Grelle said, smiling at Macbeth wagged his tail and looked up at Grelle. “William got him as a present. I wanted to be an actress and he knew about The Scottish Play.”  
Nina smiled. “He must be a very good friend.”  
“He is,” Grelle said. She took a sip of coffee, staring at Nina. “Should we get started?”  
Before Nina could say anything, Macbeth rolled over, laying on his belly and wagging his tail happily.

Nina hummed, making sure everything fit properly on Grelle. She marked what didn’t fit quite right. Waistlines would have to be changed, sleeve lengths changed to suit her. The colours, however, suited Grelle just fine.  
“You don’t talk much,” Nina noted.  
“There wasn’t much talking when getting ready for the runway,” Grelle explained.  
Nina looked up at her. “You were a runway model?”  
“I’m surprised you didn’t know.”  
Nina shrugged, taking a step back to see if she liked the way that fabric way draping there. “I don’t really care for names.”  
“You should,” Grelle told her. “It’ll get you far.”  
Nina made a note to change that waistline to fix the draping issue. They lapsed into silence again, but not the uncomfortable kind.  
“Tell me about William,” Nina begged her, helping Grelle out of that dress and into a new one.  
Grelle hummed in thought. “We’ve always been friends, I suppose. He had really stiff parents. They expected him to marry a ‘proper’ woman.”  
“Well, if you’re modelling, you’re definitely proper,” Nina pointed out, moving Grelle’s hair and zipping up the back of the dress.   
“I wasn’t modeling then,” Grelle told her. “I was trying to be an actress and get away from horrible parents.”  
Nina nodded, looking at Grelle’s figure in the dress. “I don’t see why they’d be so upset. You look amazing.”  
“You know the rumor that models eat cotton balls to stay full and skinny?” Grelle asked.  
Nina shrugged, looking up at her.   
“It's true, you know,” Grelle said softly.   
Nina's hands faltered. She looked into Grelle's eyes. Carefully pulling the design-in-progress off the woman, Nina held her for a moment.  
“If it weren't for William.” Grelle shuddered.  
“Don't think about that now,” Nina said, grabbing Grelle's robe. She dressed Grelle, puling her close and holding her.  
Grelle sighed, closing her eyes. After a while, she murmured “We should do lunch.”

Nina had not expected lunch to include William. Sitting in the shade of a little cafe in downtown, Nina felt horrible out of place.   
Grelle spent her time fussing over William, loudly and with more than necessary prying. She often reached over to pat his hand or adjust his precisely arranged tie. William responded in a hushed voice, asking Grelle if she had taken this or that, had she had a proper breakfast, or if Nina was her new fling.  
That made her perk up.  
Grelle tuned her head, eyes hidden behind large sunglasses that brought the image of the classic Audrey Hepburn look to Nina's mind. Pursing her lips and perching her chin on her hand just so, Grelle hummed.  
“Well, she's not unattractive,” Grelle said, turning her head back toward William. “And she got me out of bed before three this afternoon.”  
“An admirable trait.” Williams tone made it impossible for Nina to tell if he was serious or had a very dry wit.  
“I mean, she'd know how to dress me,” Grelle said with a smirk.   
William sighed, adjusting his glasses. “You are impossible.”  
“If I wasn't, no one would want me,” Grelle pointed out.  
Nina cleared her throat awkwardly, drawing the attention of William. His gaze made her feel her gut freezing over, her vocal chords covered with frost.  
He nodded. “I think the two of you would make a fine pair.”  
Waving over a waitress, William pulled his wallet out. Grelle gave Nina a small smile and mouthed one word to her:  
Lawyer.

Grelle sighed, unzipping her leather jacket as soon as the door to her flat opened. Nina followed her inside, closing the door behind herself. Grelle tossed her jacket over the back of an armchair, her purse laid on the coffee table with her keys.   
Macbeth waddled out of the bedroom, barking at Grelle's heels. She stooped and scooped up the dog, pressing a kiss to its neck.  
“Well, I suppose we have more work to do,” Grelle said, smiling at Nina.   
Nina nodded. “The sooner we get those fitted, the sooner we can have you model them.”  
“Are you always this to-the-point?” Grelle pulled off her glasses, squinting at Nina.   
“Well, it's just business.”  
“Oh no,” Grelle told her, twisting to set her sunglasses gently on the table. “Me having an emotional moment this morning means it's a little more than just business.” She stepped over, flawless in her boots, and towered over Nina.  
“You don't do that to every designer?”   
Grelle turned, setting Macbeth down. The dog wandered off, leaping up onto the couch.   
“Of course not,” Grelle told her. “Why would I have emotional moments with every little tailor who comes through here?”  
Nina swallowed. “How do you know you can trust me?”  
“We've done lunch and I know enough to know you're trustworthy.” Grelle turned, walking to her bedroom.  
Nina frowned and asked, “How would you know that?” She followed her into the room, pausing in the doorway, eyes wide.  
Grelle had her dress off, standing topless by her bed. She turned and raised a brow at Nina.   
“What? You think I didn't snatch up the chance to model lingerie?” Grelle asked. “Any girl knows being sexy is better than being pretty.”  
“But you're both.”  
“And that's how I made it to the runway.”  
Nina pursed her lips.  
“If you're wondering if it's wrong, I'll tell you now that no one's lost their job over it,” Grelle said. “And everyone assumes two women are nothing more than friends.”  
Nina took a step into the bedroom, closing the door behind her and ignoring Macbeth's whining.

Nina Hopkins knew three things about Grelle Sutcliff.  
First, she could do absolutely wicked and divine things with her tongue. More than once she left Nina breathless.  
Second, she had a figure Nina was jealous of. From her jawline to her throat, her breasts and shoulder to her hips and waist. And she had absolutely lovely thighs.  
Third, Grelle was absolutely insatiable. When Grelle was finally satisfied and Nina had caught her breath, it was well past seven.  
“Should we get something to eat?” Nina asked.  
Grelle was silent, pressing her lips to one of many bruises around Nina's neck.   
“You need to eat,” Nina said softly.   
“I know,” Grelle mumbled. “Just give me a moment to enjoy this.”  
Nina sighed, putting an arm around her and drawing Grelle closer.

Mornings were Nina's least favourite part of the day. They were also Grelle's idea of hell on Earth.  
They rolled out of bed sometime after ten and had coffee in a rather comfortable silence. Macbeth wound himself around Nina's ankles and, still half-asleep, Nina didn't have the heart to try and shoo him. Grelle did her the favour with a snap of her fingers and a simple gesture.   
Macbeth sat, head cocked.  
“I should set an alarm,” Grelle mumbled, opening a can of dog food and pouring it into the little porcelain bowl.  
Macbeth gave an appreciative bark and allowed Grelle to scratch behind his ears. Smiling, Grelle stood and took a sip of her coffee.  
“Anything on the agenda today?” Grelle asked.   
“Just fitting the rest of those designs,” Nina admitted. “I'm not in the mood for much else.”  
Grelle nodded in agreement. “I'm telling William to cancel lunch today.”

The fitting took only two hours. Grelle hardly complained, standing and posing as Nina asked her to. Nina worked quickly, but made sure not to make mistakes in the way she'd fitted Grelle.   
“I'm jealous,” Nina said.  
“Don't be,” Grelle warned. “The dieting---”  
“Not that,” Nina told her, a hand on her back. “You're so tall.”  
“Oh.” Grelle blinked, staring at Nina's reflection. “That's one of the only reasons they would hire me. Tall and skinny.”  
“I like tall women,” Nina admitted.  
Grelle raised a brow, smirking at her. “Do you say that to all the pretty models?”  
“Of course not,” Nina admitted, helping Grelle out of that dress and into a new one. “I can't stand most of them.”

Pearls were definitely a nice compliment to the red shirtwaist dress, Nina thought, dressing Grelle. Nina clipped the necklace on and smiled, at her handiwork. She unbuttoned the first button of the dress.  
“You just like starting at me,” Grelle teased.  
Nina tilted her head, taking in Grelle's figure. “And if I do?”  
“If you like the way I look so much, maybe you can take me out for dinner,” Grelle teased.  
Nina patted Grelle's ass. “Go on. You have a job to do.”  
Grelle kissed Nina and turned, going to model the outfit. Nina watched her walk, wondering just how well of a lingerie model Grelle might be.


End file.
